Tag: in memory

Secret Santa

Poetry Writing

Secret Santa

When winter arrived, and the sky blushed with rosy, pink,
You’d grin and say, “Mrs. Claus must be baking cookies again.”
One Christmas, you made me believe Santa had visited—
You showed me a Polaroid, your proud piece of proof:
From the chimney hung your boots, covered with soot.

One year, Mom whisked me to the mall, where I sat on Santa’s knee,
And I had no idea it was you behind the beard, not the man of my dreams.
All the goodies, tucked gently beneath our tinseled tree.
Each one a treasured memory of love, you gave to us all.
I was lucky to call you “Dad,” a gift I’ll always recall.

Steady on the ladder, you strung the lights with pride.
Each bulb a shimmer in the long winter night.
I only wish our Christmases hadn’t ended so soon.
Everyone knew Mom adored the holidays, but you did too—
And when the first white snowflakes fall, I won’t feel blue.

As the angel children carve in the snow, I see traces of you.

Echoes of a Vanished Era

Poetry Writing

Echoes of a Vanished Era

The Rhinestone Cowboy has lost a stud,
His stallion left him stranded in the mud.
Houdini made his greatest escape,
The magic vanished with him that day.

No more Blockbusters or RadioShacks,
Elvis has left the building, no turning back.
Gone are the days of CDs and iPods,
Michael moonwalked to the stars, against all odds.

You can’t find payphones or call collect,
Good luck watching movies on VHS.
Muhammad floated like a butterfly,
But his sting has been put to rest.

What happened to Teddy Ruxpin,
Ever since Toys ‘R’ Us went bankrupt?
Doves cried when Prince’s purple reign ended,
He’s now dancing in a purple heaven.

Ziggy Stardust now “Ashes to Ashes,”
I don’t even know what’s the new fashion.
Icons fade, but memories are everlasting,
Never forget, it all goes so fast.

Winter Finch

Poetry Writing

Winter Finch

A winter finch appears,
Upon my windowsill,
In the soft July light,
Trilling tunes, so bright.

A winter finch, so spry,
Skipping a sprightly jig,
Such joy it brings to life,
To witness its cheerfulness.

A winter finch, adorned,
In plumage warm and rich,
Roasted almond feathers,
With hints of milk chocolate.

A winter finch, beloved,
Mum welcomed in her hedge,
Perhaps her spirit visits,
Perched upon my ledge.

Whispers of Dawn

Poetry Writing

Whispers of Dawn

In the quiet of the morning, whispers of dawn break free,
Broken waves shatter the shore from a roaring sea.
A lone gull’s cry echoes through the misty air,
As I stand here lonesome, misty-eyed without you near.

Beneath the weeping willow, shadows softly dance,
While drops of dew from leaves drum a gentle cadence.
The world awakens slowly, wrapped in nature’s song,
Each petal unfurling as daylight grows strong.

The day is fresh and new, yet I’m still without you,
Though the sun shines brightly, my heart feels the dew.
You weren’t Mother Nature, but you were mother to me,
In your embrace, I found solace, safe as can be.

I still hear you singing lullabies like wind through the trees,
Your voice a gentle melody carried by the breeze.
Entwined in every dawning sunrise, I sense your love’s reprise,
A tender reminder that your spirit never dies.

July 7th, 2022

Journal Writing

July 7th, 2022

A Grandmother Clock

In a festive room is a grandmother clock, which no longer ticks. Sadly, her mechanisms couldn’t be fixed anymore. We had such good times with her, never thinking about how one day they could end. We wanted to believe they were everlasting. It was easy to disillusion ourselves since her hands tirelessly revolved around a continuous circle. This circle was so much more than just etched numbers, but memories minted by family and friends that will no longer be touched by this loving woman’s hands. Although her ticker may have stopped, we can still carry pieces of her in our own timepieces. They can be put back together again someday when we meet our clockmaker, who goes by Father Time.